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A long moment passes, the boards swaying beneath our feet, the soft swells pulling us back to shore.
“You must know this is more than just fun to me, Kenzi,” he says finally, sinking his paddle into the water to guide the board closer to mine.
“I want to believe that, but…” I use my paddle to keep my board from floating away from him, twisting my body to keep him in my line of sight. “I want you to know that I can be here for the hard stuff too, not just the easy.”
“Kenzi, I don’t do it to push you away, I don’t talk about things because…” He looks away like he’s trying to come up with the right words to explain, and then he just freezes, shoulders tight, gaze fixed on the beach. “The fuck?”
I follow the direction of his shell-shocked stare. I scrunch my eyes to try and see better in the rapidly receding light. A man… or a teenager… maybe? Dark hair. Dark clothes. Slight in build and standing in front of the Surf Shack staring right back at us.
I turn back to Mylo as I climb off my board, the warm water lapping at my thighs, the board shifting beneath my hand. “Who’s that?”
Horror. That can’t be it. But it’s sure as hell what it looks like he’s feeling going by the tilt of his brows and the sharp line of his mouth. He doesn’t take his eyes off the guy in the beach, even as he jumps off his board and drags it easily from the water and onto the shore.
“Mylo,” I call, pulling my own board from the water with way more effort.
Both hands lift to his hair and he turns back to me, that look—that horror—still written in every hard line of his face. “Kenzi, I need you to—” He turns back toward the Surf Shack and his hands fall from his hair. “Fuck.”
The man is gone. Vanished. No longer there. It doesn’t matter. Every single red flag in my brain is officially flagging. “Who was that?”
Mylo’s hands drop to his sides and his chest heaves. “Nobody.”
“Mylo—”
“Kenzi.” His eyes flash with something I’ve no idea how to read before he leans down, picks up his board, then holds his arm out for mine. “Enough! Please.”
My heart thuds in a big ugly thump against my rib cage, but I hand him the board and step from the water, the moonless sky already beginning to wrap everything in darkness.
TWENTY-EIGHT
Kenzi
I walk into my apartment and hang my keys on the hook on the wall, Mylo filling the doorway behind me. He hasn’t said a word all the way home. Doesn’t need to. Contrary to most people’s beliefs, I can read people. He’s doing that tapping thing with his thumb against his fingers. I’m not even sure he knows he does it.
Kicking off my flip-flops, I glance up into his serious face. I don’t smile. I can’t. I’m hurt and honestly? I’m tired of his big Viking goddamn ass. It’s not about the tattoos, or the scars, it’s not even really about the guy on the beach. I know it’s early and I know this is new, but… I don’t know if I can be okay with being shut down whenever I ask about anything other than fluff.
“I’m going for a shower.” I shake my head and walk away.
“Kenzi.” Sighing hard, he closes the front door behind him. “Don’t be like this. I thought I recognized someone, but it couldn’t have been him. There’s nothing to talk about.”
I don’t look back, I just keep on walking right to the bathroom. Just anobodywho brought a look to his face I never want to see again. Pulling my tank over my head, I throw it into the laundry basket by the bathroom door as I pass, then lean into the glass-sided shower and yank the lever up to start the water, resolutely ignoring him when he appears in the doorway.
“Kenzi, look at me.”
I shake my head, turn to the sink, and pull my hair out of its hold, the steam from the shower already misting up the mirror. “What’s there to say? He was nobody. And everything’s fine.” I gnaw on my bottom lip and glance up to his foggy reflection behind me. “You know everything about me, but you literally shut me down whenever I ask about anything that means anything to you.” My gaze drops to the blurred patterns on his arm, and I shake my head again. “I get that this is new, thatwe’renew, but come on…”
“But all that shit, it’s in the—”
“The past. Right. Whatever.” I untie my bikini top and shrug it off, then unfasten my denim cut-offs and shove them down my legs along with my bikini bottoms. “But the man on the beach was right now,ourpresent. The cancer affected our now,ourpresent. And I honestly don’t think you’d have ever told me if I hadn’t found out for myself. Ever since the first time you kissed me, you’ve been holding back.”
He’s quiet when I pick up my clothes and dump them in the basket beneath the sink. Doesn’t say a word when I step into the shower. He doesn’t leave either though. I can feel his eyes on me. Feel him, huge and brooding in the doorway. But I keep facing the white tiled wall and grab my shampoo from the shelf in the cornerhestraightened for me. Maybe I’m overreacting. Maybe I’m not. All I know is that this feels a lot like being in the fun-time only box.
I’ve barely got my fingers to my hair when his hands cover mine, sinking into the salty strands. The scent of jasmine thick in the steamy air, he tilts my head back until it hits his chest and I’m looking up into his face, the hot water hitting my throat and cascading down my body, my hands dropping to my sides.
“I’m serious about us.” The blunt tips of his fingers massage my scalp, spray from the shower glittering over his face and beading on his beard.
I don’t pull away. I can’t. I just let him press those strong fingers into my hair and watch him watching me. Let him take care of me, knowing that, without a doubt, he will. Because it’s who he is. It’s what he does. The shampoo foams, and he nudges my head up to work his way down the length of my hair, his presence filling the space, surrounding me completely, begging me to let it go.
My bum brushes the soaked material of his board shorts and I still. Turn. Peer up into his serious face as the water washes away the suds of my shampoo. He took his T-shirt off but not his shorts. He didn’t come in here to distract me with sex. I’ve no idea why, but my throat clogs with a lump that’s hard to swallow past.
